Delighted, ’pon my word, to be rum-padded by such distinguished—er—knights of the road.”
“The honour is ours,” answered Creagh gravely, returning his bow, but the Irishman’s devil-may-care eyes were dancing.
“A strange fortuity, in faith, that our paths have crossed so often of late, Montagu. Now I would lay something good that our life lines will not cross more than once more.”
“Why should we meet at all again?” I cried. “Here is a piece of good turf under the moonlight. ’Twere a pity to lose it.”
He appeared to consider. “As you say, the turf is all that is to be desired and the light will suffice. Why not? We get in each other’s way confoundedly, and out of doubt will some day have to settle our little difference. Well then, if ’twere done ’twere well done quickly. Faith, Mr. Montagu, y’are a man after my own heart, and it gives me a vast deal of pleasure to accept your proposal. Consider me your most obedient to command and prodigiously at your service.”
Raffish and flamboyant, he lounged forward to the window of the carriage.
“I beg a thousand pardons, sweet, for leaving you a few minutes alone,” he said with his most silken irony. “I am desolated at the necessity, but this gentleman has a claim that cannot be ignored. Believe me, I shall make the absence very short. Dear my life, every instant that I am from you is snatched from Paradise. Fain would I be with you alway, but stern duty”—the villain stopped to draw a plaintive and theatric sigh—“calls me to attend once for all to a matter of small moment. Anon I shall be with you, life of my life.”
She looked at him as if he were the dirt beneath her feet, and still he smiled his winsome smile, carrying on the mock pretense that she was devoted to him.
“Ah, sweet my heart!” he murmured. “’Twere cheap to die for such a loving look from thee. All Heaven lies in it. ’Tis better far to live for many more of such.”
There was a rush of feet and a flash of steel. Donald Roy leaped forward just in time, and next moment Hamish Gorm lay stretched on the turf, muttering Gaelic oaths and tearing at the sod with his dirk in an impotent rage. Sir Robert looked down at the prostrate man with his inscrutable smile.
“Your friend from the Highlands is in a vast hurry, Montagu. He can’t even wait till you have had your chance to carve me. Well, are you ready to begin the argument?”
“Quite at your command. There is a bit of firm turf beyond the oaks. If you will lead the way I shall be with you anon.”
“Lud! I had forgot. You have your adieux to make to the lady. Pray do not let me hurry you,” he said urbanely, as he picked his way daintily through the mud.
When he had gone I turned to the girl.
“You shall be quit of him,” I told her. “You may rely on my friends if—if the worst happens. They will take you to Montagu Grange, and my brother Charles will push on with you to Scotland. In this country you would not be safe from him while he lives.”
Her face was like the snow.
“Iss there no other way whatever?” she cried. “Must you be fighting with this man for me, and you only a boy? Oh, I could be wishing for my brother Malcolm or some of the good claymores on the braes of Raasay!”
The vanity in me was stung by her words.
“I’m not such a boy neither, and Angelo judged me a good pupil. You might find a worse champion.”
“Oh, it iss the good friend you are to me, and I am loving you for it, but I think of what may happen to you.”
My pulse leaped and my eyes burned, but I answered lightly,
“For a change think of what may happen to him, and maybe to pass the time you might put up a bit prayer for me.”
“Believe me, I will be doing that same,” she cried with shining eyes, and before I divined her intent had stooped to kiss my hand that rested on the coach door.
My heart lilted as I crossed the heath to where the others were waiting for me beyond the dip of the hillock.
“Faith, I began to think you had forgotten me and gone off with the lady yourself,” laughed Volney.
I flung off my cloak and my inner coat, for though the night was chill I knew I should be warm enough when once we got to work. Then, strangely enough, an unaccountable reluctance to engage came over me, and I stood tracing figures on the heath with the point of my small sword.
“Are you ready?” asked the baronet.
I broke out impetuously. “Sir Robert, you have ruined many. Your victims are to be counted by the score. I myself am one. But this girl shall not be added to the list. I have sworn it; so have my friends. There is still time for you to leave unhurt if you desire it, but if we once cross swords one of us must die.”
“And, prithee, Mr. Montagu, why came we here?”
“Yet even now if you will desist——”
His caustic insolent laugh rang out gaily as he mouthed the speech of Tybalt in actor fashion.
“‘What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word,
As I hate hell, all Montagus, and thee;
Have at thee, coward.’”
I drew back from his playful lunge.
“Very well. Have it your own way. But you must have some one to act for you. Perhaps Captain Mac—er—the gentleman on your right—will second you.”
Donald Roy drew himself up haughtily. “Feint a bit of it! I’m on the other side of the dyke. Man, Montagu! I’m wondering at you, and him wronging a Hieland lassie. Gin he waits till I stand back of him he’ll go wantin’, ye may lippen (trust) to that.”
“Then it’ll have to be you, Tony,” I said, turning to Creagh. “Guard, Sir Robert!”
“’Sdeath! You’re getting in a hurry, Mr. Montagu. I see you’re keen after that ‘Hic Jacet’ I promised you. Lard! I vow you shall have it.”
Under the shifting moonlight we fell to work on the dripping heath. We were not unevenly matched considering the time and the circumstances. I had in my favour youth, an active life, and a wrist of steel. At least I was a strong swordsman, even though I could not pretend to anything like the mastery of the weapon which he possessed. To some extent his superior skill was neutralized by the dim light. He had been used to win his fights as much with his head as with his hand, to read his opponent’s intention in advance from the eyes while he concealed his own; but the darkness, combined with my wooden face, made this impossible now. Every turn and trick of the game he knew, but the shifting shine and shadow disconcerted him. More than once I heard him curse softly when at a critical moment the scudding clouds drifted across the moon in time to save me.
He had the better of me throughout, but somehow I blundered through without letting him find the chance for which he looked. I kept my head, and parried by sheer luck his brilliant lunges. I broke ground and won free—if but barely—from his incessant attack. More than once he pricked me. A high thrust which I diverted too late with the parade of tierce
